


Red Curse

by OppsieDasi



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: But not by Phil, Concerned Parent Philza Minecraft, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sick Fic, Sick Wilbur Soot, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Trans Male Character, Trans Wilbur Soot, Vomiting, Wilbur Soot-centric, is it obvious I'm self projecting?, period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29732328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OppsieDasi/pseuds/OppsieDasi
Summary: Wilbur has had more ideal mornings.The porcelain toilet stared back at him, tilted on an angle as he rested his head on it. It was probably a bit gross, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care.--Aka, a sick Wilbur Soot fic
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Philza Minecraft
Comments: 8
Kudos: 173





	Red Curse

**Author's Note:**

> The new chapter of the firefighter au will come out soon. I need to rework part of it so it might take a bit longer.  
> But this wasn't really meant to see the light of day? But I liked it and I crave validation, so here it is.  
> A bit of self projection in the terms that I was a goodie toe shoes in highschool and when I had bad periods I was a bit like Wilbur, so... enjoy?

Wilbur has had more ideal mornings.

The porcelain toilet stared back at him, tilted on an angle as he rested his head on it. It was probably a bit gross, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care.

You see, Wilbur has a condition called uterus. Normally, his monthlies are fine. And he thought this was going to be one of those. He hadn’t even laid on the floor in pain, willing himself to get the energy to get some pain relief this month.

But feeling dizzy, he managed to make it to the toilet just in time to lose his breakfast.

A knock on the door broke Wilbur from his thoughts.

“Wilbur, are you okay in there?” the voice asked. Phil.

After running away from his home due to…. Less than ideal parents, Phil had offered to take him in.

“Yeah,” he tried to call back, his voice sounding as steady as his legs. The thought of getting up made him hack into the toilet, nothing coming up.

“Can I come in?” Phil asked. A small noise came out, but Phil took that as a yes and entered. In his arms was an empty ice cream tub. Hands came to touch the top of his forehead. He knew it wasn’t a fever, but he still leaned into the touch.

He’s had a rough morning. Sue the guy for wanting a bit of comfort.

“No fever. Come on, sit up. You don’t want to sit on the floor. I don’t know when the last time I cleaned the bathroom was,” Taking Phil’s hand to get up, he sat himself on the toilet with the lid down. Phil gave the ice cream tub to Wilbur.

“What’s this for?” Wilbur asked, feeling semi-coherent. He hoped Phil wouldn’t make him go to school today. He just wanted to pass out for a few hours.

“To throw up in,” He must have made a face because Phil explained, “It’s what my parents did for me when I was sick. I’ve just copied it. Easier to clean and put away than a bucket. It’s not like the ice cream tub’s being used for anything else anyway,”

Wilbur couldn’t argue with that.

He couldn’t see what Phil was doing over the sink, but the tap started running, and then it turned off. Phil turned around with... his toothbrush.

“Let’s get the taste out of your mouth. Then I’ll drug you up and send you to bed,”

“Yay,” He sighed, taking the toothbrush from his hands. He felt a bit like a child, being taken care of like this. It was weird but strangely nice. Like he was cared for or something.

“I’ll be back soon,” Phil said before leaving the room again. Wilbur stared at the toothbrush for a while. Finally, he decided that his mouth did taste like something had died inside it. Despite his best brushing, it still wasn’t gone, but he figured that was a problem for later. He managed to stumble his way back to the sink to wash his toothbrush. He had to at least try to be helpful.

Phil came back soon, empty-handed, “Water and pills are on the bedside table. Let’s get you to bed,”

It was, thankfully, a very short walk back to the room he was staying in. Even if they had to stop halfway through so, Wilbur could cough up a lung into the ice cream tub. His body was not liking the movement, but it had nothing to show for it.

Phil sat him down and handed him the Water and the pills that he thankfully took. After putting everything on the bedside and making sure it wouldn’t fall, he finally let himself fall down onto the bed.

Despite only just lying down, he was already almost asleep when he felt Phil move the blankets around him. He cracked open an eye.

“Just tucking you in. Go to sleep, Wilbur. I’ll call you in sick,”

A lot of emotions were felt at that. But that was a problem for Wilbur in a few hours. Current Wilbur was content to do precisely what Phil told him to do.

\---

Wilbur woke up feeling more refreshed and a lot less likely to throw up again. Sunlight filtered into the room through the tiny slip of light the curtains couldn’t cover. He remembered them being wide open, a trick he’s learnt that gets him up for the day. Phil must have closed him.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment. At his old house, any sign of sickness was just a ploy to get out of school. He’s spent days at school, powering through headaches and fevers alike or spending it at the nurse, hoping his parents will pick up the phone so he could go home. Even when he had days like this, they’d just send him to school on an emptied stomach.

Phil would probably make him go to school at lunchtime or something. School was too important to miss an entire day.

He got up, relieved that he stayed upright and made his way downstairs.

Phil was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop open. He told him that he was a freelance writer and liked working downstairs.

Maybe he can grab some bread or something before heading to school. This morning, he had packed his bag and managed to get everything done before he had to throw his guts up.

He tried to sneak past him, but Phil must have had a 6th sense and noticed him, “Wilbur! Glad to see you awake. I’m assuming you want to try breakfast again,”

“Uh, yeah, but I can just go to school if that’s easier-”

“Nonsense. Sit, I’ll make some toast and some soup. It’s important to keep your fluids up,” Phil said, sitting up and ushering him to sit opposite him. Wilbur simply nodded and did what was told.

It was weird. Maybe Phil wanted him to tell him how he was going to get to school. He was sure Schlatt was either skiving off school, had a study or willing to skive off for a few minutes to pick him up if needed.

But that wasn’t what he was asking. All he wanted to know is if he felt better or needed anything else while he was up and how he slept.

He was waiting for the shoe to fall. Metaphorically. He hoped.

Phil soon returned with some toast and chicken noodle soup and set it down on the table for him. He made sure to thank the other man, who just smiled in return. He sat picking at his food while the other man worked.

He kept looking over at him, and he knew Phil was doing the same thing. He could feel his eyes on him every so often.

After a bit of stalemate, Phil finally caved, “You good, Wil? You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to,”

“I was just wondering how you wanted me to get back to school,” He said slowly, carefully choosing his words. He didn’t want Phil to get mad at him. He kind of liked it here.

“Wilbur, you were just throwing up,” The indents in the wooden table were fascinating, “I’d like to keep you home for the rest of the day. You can go back tomorrow if you’re well enough,”

“But I’ll be behind on my work,” Wilbur said.

“I’m sure if you’re really concerned, one of your friends could come over with the homework you missed. You’ve been doing well at school, I’m sure you can miss one day,”

Wilbur sat there for a moment, looking up and seeing Phil staring back at him. He had put on these little glasses that make him look like an old man, but all he sees is an intimidating librarian.

“I-” Did he really want to go back to school right now? “Okay,”

“Excellent. Now drink up on that soup,” Phil adjusted his glasses and went back to whatever he was writing. Mildly worried he’d start forcing it down his throat if he didn’t, he took a sip from the mug. It tasted like home.


End file.
